Hunger Games: Rescue
by IzorIzent
Summary: District 13's desperate mission to free Katniss from the Quarter Quell arena.


It was dark, the dead hours of the night, when the hovercraft rose from its pad just enough to clear the treetops, and moved slowly off to the north, away from District 13 and into Capitol lands. We would maintain our current heading until satisfied that we were clear of prying eyes and sensor sweeps, certain we weren't being followed, then turn west to head inland. There were reports of Capitol troops around 13, but we encountered nothing. It was the morning of the 3rd day of the 75th Hunger Games, Panem's 3rd quarter quell. District 13's attempt to rescue tributes from the arena was underway.

The hovercraft, fully emblazoned with Capitol insignia, was the best that 13 had, and had been custom fitted for this mission. In addition to advanced stealth capabilities, it was heavily shielded against electromagnetic impulses, laser attack and photonic pulse weapons. It was fully armed with machine guns, cannon, pulse weapons of our own, air to air tracking missiles, air to surface missiles, and the newly developed, sight shielded hover mines. The craft's array of observation and scanning equipment was impressive.

There was an on board surgery. In fact, the sick bay so well equipped that it raised protests of deprivation from 13's hospital. The hovercraft was fully equipped with grappling and recovery equipment for air based body extraction... hopefully the ladder would be sufficient, but two talon carriers were also installed and fully operational.

It was a large ship and seemed roomy to me, but opinions can change over time.

All of us on board were volunteers and, I like to think, the best District 13 could provide. There was a flight crew, gunnery crew, and medical crew. When the time came, I would help the medical assistants, doing double duty as part of the recovery team.

And still, none of us knew if the mission had even a hope of success.

The plan itself was far fetched: fly to the arena, distribute detector beacons, continue to the Capitol outskirts to pick up Plutarch somebody, and Haymitch, that told guy from District 12, and then return to the arena, position themselves correctly on its border and wait for the force field to fall.

"A walk in the park." said Captain Anderson, "How I do love the Air Force."

Captain Anderson was 30 years old and had been flying missions for 12 of those years. He was the old man on this crew. His radio man, Brian Johnston, just a year older than me, signaled an all clear from the scanner array. I was the navigator. I'm John Smith, 21 years old, and this was only my 10th mission. I felt good to be chosen. I gave the coordinates for the first leg of the trip, and we were on our way.

Cruising at low level was necessary to avoid electronic detection, but it made for slow travel. At least the view was scenic. We sailed over forest, rivers and lakes. Panem had once been much more populated than it was these days. There had been an extensive infrastructure of roadways and railways that was now mostly ruins. Old roads and fallen bridges passed beneath us. We gave a wide berth to deserted villages, towns, even small cities, long overgrown and sometimes difficult to spot through the forest canopy. You never knew who, or what, might be hidden in those ruins. I kept busy making notes of this and that on the charts to be cross referenced to the records in District 13 on our return.

The countryside looked deserted, but it was not. There were the other Districts, vast fenced-in compounds fully monitored by Capitol forces. Each district had it's own secret military base close by, and there were other bases, more secret and many unknown. There were other, earlier, arenas, still Capitol hotspots. The wilderness was peppered with Capitol parties and crews... everything from infrastructure maintenance, surveying, prospecting and salvage crews working the old city ruins, to hunting and fishing parties and lodges. Even some of the old family estates were still maintained by the ruling class of Panem. None of them ventured into the wild without a Peacekeeper guard.

Constant vigilance was required. Full stealth practices were being strictly observed. Even a minor slip in these apparently empty wastelands might lead to discovery.

We were well on our way as dawn broke over Panem. Already the forest was beginning to thin and the hills were falling behind as we entered the vast deserts and grasslands of the central continent. The hovercraft dropped even lower, skimming barely 20 feet over the ground on its southward travel.

The arena, according to our informed sources, was in the deep south, close to a massive saltwater gulf. A finger from that gulf penetrated deep into the mainland and the Capitol had cut an even longer channel to supply the arena with it's central "sea". A huge river flowed just to the west of the site, and water from that was diverted for one of the Arena's many hazards. Where the river met the gulf there were the ruins of a vast city, now partially submerged. No one from 13 had ever seen it, had ever been this far south. The arena, by Capitol standards, was very small. We counted on the power it consumed to register on our sensors long before visual contact could be made.

Twice we were nearly fooled and diverted towards power signals that turned out to be unknown Peacekeeper bases. Calculations said we were too far north, but calculations can be wrong, and it already felt like we had been airborne forever. I suppose those near misses should have bolstered confidence in our stealth capabilities, but we were too scared to really think about that. You can bet I made notes of where those bases were.

When the arena did appear, there was no mistaking it. The signals got bigger and bigger until, at last, we could eyeball the force field, a huge silvery dome in the distance, the late morning sum glinting on its surface.

"This has to be fast and sure." said Captain Armstrong. "Have the beacons ready to deploy, chief."

Irving Carthage, the chief gunnery officer, was already on it. We had five beacons available. A wide spacing around the arena's perimeter would give the best results. They would detect and locate the lightning strikes in the 12:00 o'clock zone. Their data would tell us where to wait. Two would do the job, but the more we could set down, the more accurate would be the gathered data. Using all five seemed mighty ambitious.

"Shut down the scanners." hissed the Captain.

Johnson did so, but it didn't make any of us happy. "If their planes are sight shielded and in the air, we're dead."

"Knock it off!" said the Captain. "They could detect our scans. They have no reason to shield. They don't know we're here."

We all prayed he was right.

"Fingers off triggers." ordered Chief Carthage. "We can't afford any slips."

We were practically on top of the arena now. It loomed massive before us. We swung down its eastern flank. Our information we had said the hotel complex and hovercraft field was on the southern side so the tourists could enjoy the sun rise and set. The complex hove into view, a beehive of activity, but no sign of the hovercraft field. We were hugging the dome now, close enough that it was tugging at the ship's controls, but we managed to stay beyond the perimeter roads, over forested land.

"Here." said the Captain and the first beacon went out the hatch. He backed the hovercraft out of view of the construction, turned and we slowly proceeded along the circumference of the field dropping beacons at regular intervals. The fifth was deployed as we came round the west side back into view of the construction zone. There was the hovercraft field, with three craft sitting in plain view. As we watched, one rose from it's pad.

My heart leapt into my throat. Had we been spotted despite all our shielding? No, the ship turned and headed towards a pair of huge scaffolds. Bright lights flared high on them and what looked like a hole opened in the force field. The approaching hovercraft winked out of view and, moments later, the hole in the field closed.

We moved slowly, almost drifted away to the west, away from the dome. The farther away we got, the more relieved I felt. A half hour later, the dome was barely visible, our scanner array was back on, and we were headed for the Capitol, the second stage of the mission.

Sam McAllister, one of the gunners, sighed with relief, saying, "Well we got away with that."

"Don't say it; you'll jinx us." replied Johnson.

"It's like a hornet's nest" said the Captain, "Just because you haven't been stung, doesn't necessarily mean they haven't been riled. We'll be back here later, and then we'll see what's what."

He looked at me and Johnston. "You guys be on the stick. I want every hotspot, no matter how small, coded and accurately entered. We're moving slow now, but when we come back, it will be fast and I want the computers sure of the route."

Our new heading was northwest. Away from the arena, the terrain reverted to flat desert. With time it changed to rolling, grassy hills, and then the mountains were in view. I thought the area around 13 was mountainous, but these were like nothing I had ever seen. Even now, with summer in full swing, we could see snow capped peaks. But this was no scenic drive. The Capitol was drawing nearer and nearer and the hotspots, those areas rife with electronic signals, became increasingly frequent. It was broad daylight and we were headed for the southern fringe of the Capitol.

This stretch of the trip really put me to the test. We were to meet our guests at an estate just outside the city's main defenses. There were plenty of Capitol defenses outside the main perimeter, but the mountainous terrain created a long. narrow corridor that we were assured was blind to their sensors. The estate itself backed onto a steep precipice. Our charts of this area dated back to the Dark Days, but they proved good enough (along with that Plutarch guy's instructions) to find the entrance to the corridor, and we traveled up it hugging the ground. At the base of the cliff topped by the estate, we released a small probe that soared upwards and scanned the park-like grounds behind the main buildings. Once satisfied that the area was secure, our craft soared up the cliff and into the estate grounds. We set down gently, switched off our shields. In no time, people were coming towards us. It looked to me like a large group. We had gunners manning machine guns and others of that crew, armed with pulse rifles and sidearms, formed a line outside our craft before Captain Armstrong disembarked. An older man, somewhat chubby and dressed in formal Capitol attire, stepped out of the group to greet him.

"I'm Plutarch Heavensbee, and you are?"

The Captain introduced himself and then asked, "Who are these other people?"

"Some of them are coming too." said Plutarch, "This is my assistant, Fulvia Cardew," he said, indicating a woman who had come up behind him, "and these," he said with a wave of his arm towards the group further back, "are Katniss Everdeen's prep team."

What a team! Surrounded by men carrying various rifles and gardening tools, stood three of the strangest individuals I had ever seen. They cowered together in a group: a man with bright orange hair done in ridiculous curls that bounced at any motion, an overweight woman with green skin (who was openly crying), and another, apparently older woman, with grotesque tattoos covering her face.

The older woman, looking at the Capitol markings on our Hovercraft, and the uniformed and armed men standing before it. Sobbed, "Thank God you've come! We've been kidnapped!"

The Captain looked at her in amazement, and then at Plutarch. "What the hell...?"

"No time." replied Plutarch. He spoke to the men surrounding the trio. "Take them on board. Find a place. Restrain them. Find the medics and have them sedated."

Hover carts full of boxes were drifting down from the house, and more Capitol people, some of them carrying bulky suits, were following after.

"A camera crew." explained Plutarch. "They're coming as well."

"This is more than I expected" said the Captain.

"It's necessary." said Plutarch, "Get these boxes on board. Do it now!" It was an order.

The Captain hesitated only a moment, then nodded to the gunnery crew to help with the loading. He sure wasn't happy.

"Isn't Haymitch Abernathy supposed to be here as well."

"Has not yet arrived." responded Plutarch. "Come up to the house. We can't wait more than a couple minutes."

He and the Captain moved toward the house, Plutarch talking along the way. I trailed behind. Johnson had hissed at me when I got up from my post, but how could I let this circus pass me by?

"I'm the Head Gamemaker." said Plutarch. "I'm a Capitol citizen, one with some rank. Technically, I can come and go as I please, but I'm supposed to be at Central Control now. These Games... they're not like any others. I made my excuses and bought some time, but my presence will be demanded very, very soon. When I don't show up, they'll be looking for me with a vengeance.

"Haymitch is not a Capitol citizen. He's a district mentor and under closely monitored house arrest. A gilded cage, but a well guarded one. We broke him out this morning. There's a full scale manhunt underway."

As we neared the house, a square brown delivery van pulled up to the service entrance and two uniformed men got out and moved to its back. Opening the doors, they wrestled out a large hamper and hefted it towards the house, stealing nervous glances at the hovercraft.

"There's a Hunger Games party scheduled here tonight." said Plutarch. "It's our cover for the activity here today."

We arrived at the house and entered. Inside, the hamper had been opened and a man was standing in it.

"Haymitch!" exclaimed Plutarch. With a huge sigh of relief, he introduced him to the Captain. Then he turned to me and... that's when I got noticed.

"Why the hell aren't you at your post?" snapped the Captain.

"Yeah, yeah." said Haymitch, "Let's go. They're already after me."

We ran to the hovercraft, and were airborne in seconds. I thought we were picking up two people, but we ended up with ten, to say nothing of the cargo they brought along. Crowded hardly begins to describe it. Our roomy hovercraft was filled to capacity, with our main action was still ahead. Our primary responsibility was still to the people trapped in the arena. Corridors needed to be clear, access to the recovery equipment and sick bay was a priority, there could be no impedance of our functionality as a fighting craft. All these civilians needed to be strapped in and the cargo secured. Out of sight, out of mind. Access to the head was going to be an issue.

We dropped over the cliff and down to ground level again. Shields engaged, we worked our way back down the corridor and wove a path away from the mountains and into the foothills.

"No time to waste." said Plutarch. "Once they're sure that Haymitch is gone, and I'm gone, they'll put two and two together soon enough and figure something's up with the Games. Best to guess they're already in pursuit."

But there was no help for it. This close to the state-of-the-art Capitol defenses, we had to creep along. We couldn't take the chance of detection. It took nearly an hour to get to the fringe of their detector range.

"Holly cow." murmured Johnson, "Their perimeter just lit up right down the line!"

The Captain looked at me. "Time?" he asked.

"19:00 Capitol," I replied. "21:00 arena time."

"Three hours is really tight." said the Captain turning to his controls.

The hovercraft gained altitude and, throwing caution to the wind, we belted back towards the arena. We were racing into the night.

Just as our first view of the arena came into sight, a tiny, bright spark on the horizon, Johnson spoke up.

"I'm getting blips that come and go." he said. "my guess is they are pursuers on the fringe of our sensor range. They weren't there earlier, so they must be gaining."

Captain Anderson called the gunnery chief. "We'll deploy the hover mines over the arena's landing site around this altitude, then we'll drop lower and try to get the beacon data. We have to assume that the hovercraft on site are in the air and shielded, looking for us. Have your men ready, but I don't want anyone jumping the gun. I hate to say it, but they'll have to fire on us first. Counter measures only."

He looked at me. "Time/"

"23:52 local by our clocks." I replied..

"Geez Louise." said Plutarch.

"Definite contact behind us." said Johnson. "Looks like a full squadron."

Ahead of us, the force field dome was looming large. As we approached, a bright white line appeared down its side.

"Screw the beacons." said the Captain, "That's our spot."

We were close enough now to see ripples spread from either side of the line and, as we watched, more ripples started to spread from a hole that suddenly appeared lower down on the dome.

"Deploy the mines." said the Captain, "And ready the grapples."

The ripples on the dome converged and a spike of silvery light jetted out from the force field. For the briefest moment, a hovercraft appeared at the tip of the spike, and then it was gone in a searing explosion of light.

"One down." said the Captain as the concussion from the explosion slammed our plane off to one side.

The spike collapsed, leaving darkness in its wake and sending massive ripples across the force field's surface. Off to one side, at ground level, a red glow appeared, and then another off to the other side.

"It's working!" gasped Plutarch. "The generators are overloading."

Ripples from the failing generators spread out over the surface, and wherever they met, more spikes of light reached out, only to collapse again. Each spike left a hole in its wake and sent out more ripples. The force field was feeding on itself, dissolving before our eyes. In no time, there was no trace of it left to be seen.

The hovercraft was shaking badly and the control indicators oscillating wildly. "Circuits overloading." yelled Johnson, "Don't know if they can hold."

A moment later, "Shields are down, we're fully visible."

"Get them back up." roared the Captain, "Where is that tree?"

We passed the perimeter of the destroyed force field looking for the lightning tree in the now dark arena.

"They're supposed to be a sector to the left." said Plutarch.

Colored lights started to blossom in the night.

"Now what?" asked the Captain.

"Fireworks, meant for the end of the games." replied Plutarch. "Don't know if the Gamemakers activated them, or if it was the collapsing field"

A brilliant flash lit the sky.

"There's the tree!" cried Plutarch, "And there's bodies around it!"

"I see it! I see it!" he yelled. "There's Katniss! I see her bow! Get these people! Get them now!"

"Incoming fore and aft." said Johnson. "One minute to shields."

Anderson was heaving on the controls, trying to steer the shuddering hovercraft. He brought the ship about and lowered it almost onto the lightning tree. Four bodies were on the ground below. Three of them were unmoving, but the fourth, furthest from the tree, had staggered upright.

An explosion lit the sky outside the arena.

"Mines got one!" yelled McAllister.

"Deploy the talons and the ladder." ordered the Captain.

A medic along with Haymitch was on one talon carrier, Plutarch and another medic on the other. They were winching downwards. I was on the ladder and deployed it as fast as possible.

"Got one!" yelled Haymitch and the talon began to retract.

A light blossomed in the dark ahead of us.

"Incoming missile!" yelled Johnson as it flashed over us. "Guidance systems must be out."

Another flash lit the sky behind us.

"He's taken out one of his own."

"Got another!" yelled Haymitch and that talon started to retract.

"Multiple launches aft." said Johnson, but the missiles weren't targeting us. They raced on by and blew the Capitol hovercraft before us out of the sky

"Wow." muttered Johnson, "Must have decided we're the friend and they were the foe."

The man below stumbled towards the ladder and jammed his arm over a rung.

"One on the ladder!" I yelled and started winching it up.

"Another incoming fore!" yelled Johnson, but already the ships behind us, now nearly on top of us and fanning out across the arena, had fired. The hovercraft ahead exploded into fiery debris. "Their communications must be down. Ten seconds to shields."

Our hovercraft lurched lurched across the arena perimeter, and the Captain toggled the power switch. We dropped like a stone, but came back just feet from the ground. The man on the ladder, half in the plane, slammed against the side of the hatch and shrieked in pain. I cut power to the ladder and multiple hands hauled him aboard. The hatch slid closed.

"Shields back!" yelled Johnson, and the hovercraft started to move, almost at taxiing level, across the arena construction site. We backtracked the route the incoming Capitol craft had taken. They were circling the arena looking for targets, but they didn't find us.

"I hope you're right." said the Captain, looking at Johnson, "I hope they think they were shooting at us when they took out their own ships. It might give us a window."

We had crossed the hovercraft landing field and, at the edge of the surrounding forest, gained just enough altitude to skim the tree tops. We dropped down again to glide across the river and found an opening that allowed us to penetrate some way into the woods before rising again to treetop level. Ever so slowly, so quietly, so cautiously, we put distance between ourselves and the arena.

"I'm taking us on a southwest heading." said the Captain. "I don't think they'll expect that."

"No problem with fuel." I replied, taking notes of speeds, headings and elapsed times.

We continued southwest for two hours and then turned due south for another two. There was no indication of pursuit, and no hotspots appeared on the sensors. We had been in the air more than 24 hours. None of 13's hovercraft had ever been this far from the district.

Traces of dawn were lighting the sky as we turned due east and flew towards the sunrise. We left land behind and passed over open water that just continued and continued. With no activity on the scanners, the Captain ordered a rotation that allowed each of us a few hours sleep. Our passengers were given an opportunity to stretch, and an overdue bathroom break, before being strapped in again. We couldn't make assumptions on what might lie ahead.

I dozed off in my seat and awoke to a conversation underway in the cockpit. Plutarch was speaking:

"... a wreck like all the rest. They were too close when the lightning struck. It may be days, even weeks, before we'll know the effects of that. Katniss is the worst. She has a massive concussion, maybe a skull fracture, and she lost a huge amount of blood. She's tough, but it's still touch and go. Beetee has not regained consciousness. He has some obvious superficial injuries, but it's the effects of the force field and the lightning that are his chief problems. Finnick is fighting any attempts at sedation. He has cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and lacerations from getting aboard. He's back there somewhere with a cup of coffee."

He left the cockpit and an exhausted Captain looked at me. "Find out where we are and get us home."

He turned to face forward, and the gunnery chief, occupying the co-pilot's seat remarked, "What's amazing to me is we didn't fire a single shot."

Using sun elevation, speeds, headings and elapsed times, I got a good approximation of our position. We headed northwest and started looking for a shoreline. None too soon to my mind, we were back over land, over forested hills. The ruins of an ancient city hove into view. We knew it, knew where we were, knew our way home.

A medic came forward and stuck his head in the cockpit: "Katniss Everdeen has just attacked Haymitch Abernathy."

"Restrain her. Sedate her." said the Captain. "Sedate them all until we get home."

.


End file.
